


and sooner or later it's over (i just don't want to miss you tonight)

by above_the_fold



Series: iris (a poly team au) [1]
Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and (Mild) Smut, Benji is probably pan, Brandt is also bi, Changing Tenses, Entirely consensual, Ethan is Bi, Flashbacks, Getting Together, Hoo boy how to tag this one, I'm Going to Hell, I'm so sorry about those, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Luther is demi/ace, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Multiple Relationships, Past Relationship(s), Shower Sex, The devil made me do it anyhow, This is an Experiment TM, We aren't sure yet, it's fine, no beta we die like men, poly team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/above_the_fold/pseuds/above_the_fold
Summary: It starts, predictably, with Benji.“You don’t think it’s… strange?” he calls after Ethan from behind the curtain. “Me—wanting everyone at once?”-Or, everyone gets what they want, eventually.Set post-Rogue Nation. Fic and series titles from "Iris" by Natalie Taylor.
Relationships: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt, Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt/Luther Stickell/William Brandt, Benji Dunn/Luther Stickell, Ethan Hunt/Luther Stickell, William Brandt/Benji Dunn, William Brandt/Ethan Hunt, William Brandt/Luther Stickell
Series: iris (a poly team au) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123355
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	and sooner or later it's over (i just don't want to miss you tonight)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [5 languages of love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809935) by [tenok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenok/pseuds/tenok). 



It starts, predictably, with Benji.

“I love you,” he’s mumbling, mouth still fixed to the long scar on Ethan’s right shoulder. They started the shower forty minutes and three orgasms—one of them mutual—ago and the water has long since run cold; Ethan pretends not to notice Benji’s light shivers as he helps him down from his second climax. It could very well be pure bliss that’s making him shake. 

“I love you, I— _ah_ —I do,” the younger man gasps, teeth scraping Ethan’s skin as he teasingly slips a finger inside him. “Stop that. We already did that part, you bastard.”

Ethan relents, lifting his shoulder in a warning not to bite down as he feels Benji’s teeth again. He’s still bruised and aching from that night’s chase—the skin of his back and neck is littered with shallow cuts from the windows he jumped through, and he leans his weight heavily on his left leg. It had taken a few minutes of awkward adjustment, slow and mildly painful at times, but well worth it, he admits to himself as Benji presses closer and leans up to kiss his mouth. 

This is good, Benji’s body on his. Where all their unspoken words have failed this mission, this is finally a beginning. Their shower had started innocently enough, Ethan slipping in behind Benji and presenting him his back with a helpless expression, stuck throughout with fine shards of glass. By the time he’d finished both were painfully hard, Ethan from the now-cursory touches sweeping dangerously lower, and Benji from whatever uncontrollable fantasy was playing out in his head. That’d been all the encouragement Ethan needed, once the desperation had faded. They’d taken their time, relieved, and now in the quiet aftermath they’ve found the words they meant all along. 

“I love you,” Benji says again, half to himself, and something appears to hit him as he gazes down at Ethan. “Why—why didn’t we do this sooner?”

He has no answer to that, just rests his head on Benji’s shoulder and closes his eyes. The same reason they’ve never said _I love you,_ probably. “Why didn’t we.”

But he’s not listening; he shifts almost nervously and Ethan flinches as the cool shower spray hits him. “I love you… and Will, and Luther too, and I—”

Ethan freezes. “Uh. You—”

Benji cuts him off, rambling now. “I’ve talked to Will about it b-before. About being with—you know, being with everyone. We, um,” he averts his gaze, ears darkening red, but plows on determinedly. “We’ve had a bit of a thing for a while now, a-and he knew I had a thing for _you_ and he said he felt the same, actually, but I—we weren’t sure if you and Luther would want to, um. You know. Have all of us.”

Ethan’s head smacks the shower wall in surprise. Benji hisses, “Brilliant. Just _brilliant,_ I’ve gone and _cocked it up_ —”

He almost snorts at the unintentional pun (although he never really knows, with Benji.) He’s leaning away, flushing scarlet, and Ethan pulls him back into his space. “You haven’t, you haven’t,” he’s quick to reassure, running a hand down his back, all slick with soap and sweat. Benji is trembling slightly with the weight of confession, but Ethan can see the longing in his eyes.

“You haven’t,” he murmurs into one last kiss, and leaves him to finish up in the shower. He rifles through his bag for a pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, one that won’t irritate his ragged skin, and dresses silently.

“You don’t think it’s… strange?” Benji calls after him from behind the curtain. He sounds breathless. “Me—wanting everyone at once?” 

Ethan leans his elbows on the sink.

_(He remembers Prague, in 2004, pacing the length of their shitty motel room in the Bartolomějská district as he and Luther waited for an evac that wasn’t coming. Sex had always been some kind of sedative for him, and it had been a particularly stressful mission. Luther had kept snapping at him to sit down and in a fit of pique he’d turned, already half-hard and begging, and snarled, “_ Make _me.”_

_It was slow and steady, too much and not enough, and it didn’t occur to Ethan until afterward, Luther’s fingers laced across his back as he stared accusingly down at him. “That didn’t do a thing for you, did it.”_

_Luther laughed gently up at him. “Nope. It’s not you, it’s me.”_

_Ethan huffed disbelievingly even as he rolled to the side, suddenly self-conscious. “Great. I made you uncomfortable.”_

_Luther moved the arm Ethan had thrown over his face and kissed his forehead, a gesture that strangely made him want to cry. “You didn’t. I wanted to make you feel good. It—hey,” he tilted Ethan’s chin up with one strong hand. “It made_ me _feel good.”_

_He swallowed hard, pushing Luther’s hand away even as he tangled their fingers together. “Seems a little masochistic.”_

_The older man rolled his eyes, brought a pillow down over his head. “Go to sleep. We’re gonna have to find a way out of here in the morning.”_

_They lay facing one another in the dark. Luther’s chest was a mass of scars—a lifetime of shielding others, he thought, tracing over one he knew was his own fault. A spectacular knife fight in Lima four months ago that he might not have walked away from, if it hadn’t been for Luther. It was always Luther._

_“I don’t know what it is,” the older man said quietly. “I care about you. And I wanted to make you feel good. But I—you know we can’t._ I _can’t. Not yet.”_

_Ethan smiled, exhausted. Someday would likely never come—not in this line of work—but it was hard not to trust Luther. “Sounds promising.”_

_Luther’s hand rested at his back, reassuring him even as he kissed him with an air of finality, soft and tinged with regret.)_

“Ethan?”

Benji’s voice shakes him from memory. He’s peering anxiously around the shower curtain, dripping water everywhere. “You don’t think—”

“No, I don’t think,” Ethan says, gingerly tugging his shirt down and running a hand through his damp hair. Benji disappears behind the curtain again with a muffled noise of disbelief, leaving him staring at his hollowed reflection in the mirror. 

He doesn’t think because he’s kissed Brandt once before, three months after India in a quiet bar around the corner from Brandt’s apartment in Silver Spring. He’d been laid up after a particularly brutal mission to Oslo—one that Ethan had assigned him—and the drinks must have been enough to take the edge off, because they’d wound up kissing against the wall outside, shoulders hunched against the evening chill. Ethan had tasted guilt beneath the whiskey and knew it wasn’t entirely Brandt’s own, and they’d left it at that; now he wonders if he’s misconstrued it as guilt over Julia and not Benji all this time. How long had _that_ been going on? How hadn’t he _noticed?_

And the thing is—he loves this team, his team, a fact that he has never bothered to hide. He’s loved Benji the hardest perhaps, and that’s come in many forms over the years, he muses as he examines a bruise from tonight’s fight, one that Benji had immediately left a mark beside. He’s loved Brandt the quickest, in spite of all the differences they have and the bitter memories of Croatia that still somehow linger between them. And he’s loved Luther the longest, of course, in both the right and wrong ways—and he knows his best friend loves this team in return, but maybe not in the way Benji and Brandt are hoping. 

Maybe that’s what Benji’s afraid of. He has always loved them, it seems, and Ethan’s known his friend long enough to understand his acute fear of rejection; on some fundamental level, he feels it too. But after tonight, and after Casablanca, Ethan will take that chance. And maybe… maybe he won’t have to choose. 

Benji stumbles out of the shower and reaches around him for his toothbrush; he seems to be rushing, avoiding Ethan’s gaze. “We’d better hurry so Brandt can have a turn in the—” 

“I think we should talk to Brandt and Luther,” he interrupts, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Benji stiffens, predictably. “They won’t.”

“Won’t what?”

Tears shine in Benji’s eyes. Ethan turns to face him, immeasurably soft even as he takes in his obvious anxiety. “Won’t want you?”

Benji shoots him a watery scowl. “You know it isn’t… _normal._ Don’t pretend it is. You haven’t even—” He inhales sharply, eyes widening. “You haven’t told me what you want.” He looks like he’s trying desperately not to hope. “What _do_ you want?”

Ethan shakes his head, kisses him softly; he can think of no other way to show him how quickly his desires have become his own.

* * *

He dutifully remains silent as Benji gathers the courage to speak. Brandt is quite visibly nervous, unable to meet Ethan’s reassuring stare, and Luther merely looks confused.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, a-and it feels like lying, keeping it from you all, so…” Benji stands in the middle of the room, clearly struggling for words, eyes brimming with tears. He holds out his hands, apparently helpless.

“Want what, Benji?” Luther rumbles, looking mildly concerned.

Brandt has stopped pacing; Ethan notices the way he positions himself beside Benji, not quite touching him, but steadying him all the same. “He wants us to date.”

Ethan blinks in surprise. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Brandt to say anything. Benji blinks gratefully up at him, then draws in a deep breath and meets Luther’s narrowed gaze.

“I just want us to be together,” he says. “All of us… I know it isn’t normal, but I—” 

“—What part of any of this is normal?”

Everyone’s gaze snaps to Ethan. He’s risen from his seat on the edge of the bed, arms folded. Brandt is wide-eyed; Benji has finally dared to look hopeful. Luther is watching him carefully, giving nothing away.

“It feels right,” he says, and realizes he means it, too. The way Benji trusts them, the way Brandt defends them, Luther’s unwavering loyalty. “It feels right,” he says again, and meets their gazes one at a time. Looks like Benji will get what he wants tonight. He just might, too. “To hell with normal.” 

Silence. Luther now wears a gentle smile, as if he can read Ethan’s mind. It’s certainly always felt that way. He opens his mouth again—

—and then Brandt is flinging himself forward and pulling him into a bruising kiss.

His hands are rough and shaking slightly as he tilts Ethan’s head, and he responds in kind, the way he didn’t _get_ to four years ago. Brandt pulls away first, rests their foreheads together, and the intimacy of it surprises him a little. He’s shocked further when he reaches up and brushes tears from the younger man’s eyes. “Will…” 

And then Benji is there, laughing tearfully as he presses his face into Ethan’s shoulder, and he pulls away just long enough to kiss the side of his head before Brandt’s mouth claims his again. Then Luther’s arms are around them, and Ethan finally lets himself go with a shaking breath. 

* * *

Brandt is still in the shower, and Benji is with him.

They’d dragged one another into the bathroom nearly an hour ago, anxiety forgotten, eagerly shedding clothes the entire way. Ethan can hear them murmuring back and forth under the splashing and through his mild confusion he’s warm with how _happy_ they sound together. 

He’s stretched out carefully on the bed beside Luther, trying not to wince at the pain of his t-shirt rubbing his raw skin. “Jesus. Are they having a full-on conversation in there?”

Luther shakes his head without looking up from his screen. Ethan tilts his head, lips quirking in a small smile. “I knew you always cared about Brandt deep down.”

The older man scoffs, shooting him a wholly uninterested look. He hardly ever rises to Ethan’s constant bait, but the warmth in his chest rises again at the sincerity of his words. “He’s a good man. I could love him.”

Ethan hears the unspoken _I already do_ and smiles into the dark. It quickly dissolves into a pained grimace as his leg throbs, the muscles sore from an awkward landing. He’s just trying to figure out a more comfortable position when Luther, tired of his shit, drops his tablet and motions for him instead.

Ethan stretches out on top of him, sighing as he touches the cuts on his back. He rests his hand over the one familiar scar that he knows has long since faded. No words pass in the little space between them as Luther picks up his tablet and resumes working. The sweet, aching truth of it is that the two of them have generally never needed many words to know the other’s feelings. Tonight Ethan hasn’t gained much from that usual tacit understanding. He has to ask. 

“Do you think it’s a mistake,” he says quietly, without inflection. He thinks of that (rather fateful, it seems) night in Prague, Luther’s gentle insistence that they wait. “Are we going to… I don’t know. Fuck up this team somehow, doing this.”

Luther is silent for a long moment. In the soft glow of the tablet screen, Ethan can tell he’s thinking. He brushes a kiss over the scar beneath his hand, waiting. 

“Maybe,” the older man says at length, gentle. “But it’s like you said. It feels right.” 

Ethan makes a face. “I meant—an open relationship being normal. Not everyone… _supports_ them.” Julia hadn’t. “It’s right to be with the people you love,” he amends, wholeheartedly. “It’s just… we’re a team.”

Luther looks at him, incredulous, like he’s the dumbest person alive. “How is it any different?”

He opens his mouth and finds he has nothing to say. He’s right, of course, and it’s more reassuring than ever before. Exhaustion has crept in, slowly and then all of a sudden, and he relaxes further, letting Luther bear most of his weight. 

“You love me?” he whispers. 

He lifts his head just as Luther leans down. Their kiss is warm and slow and unhurried; perhaps he’s lived to see someday after all. “I’ve always loved you.” 

It’s always been hard not to trust Luther. He smiles, leans into his chest, and falls asleep soundly for the first time in six months to the sound of shower pipes and Luther’s steady breathing. He doesn’t hear the others return. 

**Author's Note:**

> what do y'all think


End file.
